Comfort Food
by kysis-the-bard
Summary: When one has lost almost everything from their life, where do they go for comfort? KratosxYuan. Yaoi. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kratos, Yuan, or anything else from Tales of Symphonia, or ToS itself. That's Namco. Namco is amazing, seriously, as is the entire Tales series.

**Warning:** yaoi. Non-canon stuff, technically. Kratos and Yuan in more than a friendly relationship. Spoilers for the game, obviously. If you don't like any of that, just run away. If you want more than just a oneshot, run away. If you didn't like ToS and are just here to flame the writers of it, run away. RUN NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!

**Author's Note:** I've been dying to write something from a Tales game for a while. This one just came to my brain first. I'll probably write much more in the Tales grouping in the future, as I love this series, but for now, just this oneshot.

**COMFORT FOOD**

It was a matter of loss, bringing them together over the centuries, these four-thousand years.

It was a matter of familiarity; those sights and sounds and smells and tastes they had grown so used to, once upon a time, in a different place than this.

It was a matter of comfort, to sooth the wounds which still festered and try to heal.

It was a matter of healing, which had yet to come.

The sky was dark out, twinkling of stars, the shining shaft of the Tower of Salvation cutting that black serenity, cleaving it in two. It was a constant, looming reminder of what he was, what he had to do. Humans were not supposed to live this long.

Technically this was the base of his enemies, and yet it was run by one of his closest friends.

What were friends anymore?

With a sudden loss of light, a soft snapping noise, his azure wings vanished from sight, and he could feel their energy pull into his back, dormant, waiting. They would never truly go away, not unless his Cruxis Crystal was destroyed, in the process, destroying himself, or at least a facet of it.

After what he saw happen to Anna, after what he had to do, the blood he still felt stained his blade, his hands, Kratos was afraid to even touch his Cruxis Crystal, much less take it off in order to destroy it.

In darkness, he finished the trek up to the hatch in the wall, hidden behind an overgrown bush. He pressed his palm to the device, its reading him, his signature energy, opening up. Quickly darting within, Kratos waited as the door slid shut, holding his breath. It felt like the world stood still, if only for a moment, holding its breath with him. If only the world, speeding towards its eventual destruction, both worlds' destructions, could pause a moment, stand still. If only they could turn back the clock.

Nothing would have turned out like this; hindsight was always 20/20.

There were the regular patrols in the halls, all dressed like Desians, but Kratos was not fooled. He had their routes memorized, knew exactly when everyone would be where, and he slid easily past them all, just another of the shadows, his white, blue and leather strapped attire not even making a noise at his passing. He brushed auburn fringe from his eyes, dark brown, troubled eyes, taking a moment to let the next guard pass.

This was wrong.

This was absolutely wrong.

If anyone found out, about any of this, at all… the relationship, the renegades, Kratos' son, anything…

No. He couldn't allow that to happen, yet at the same time, he couldn't keep himself away.

It was a matter of comfort, what they did. Yuan pretended to be asleep when Kratos finally made it to the expansive room, not moving until Kratos began to plant trembling, fearful kisses on that pale skin, running a partially gloved hand through hair as blue as his wings. He traced a finger along the point of Yuan's ear, feeling the shiver.

It was a matter of comfort, the way they fit so well in each other's arms, writhing together with clammy, ashen skin, panting breaths and weak voices calling out names not each other's. Kratos did not mind arcing into Yuan and hearing the name Martel slip Yuan's supple lips, nor did Yuan seem to mind how Kratos sometimes mumbled Anna in his after sex sleep.

It was a matter of comfort, this need for something, anything, which would not deteriorate with time, die, change. They had not changed in four thousand years, or at least much. They were not idealistic fools anymore, or at least not in the same ways. They were not blind to the truth of what was happening. Yuan's hair was just as long as he remembered it, fingers combing through the loose locks again once they had stilled, once their heart rates had begun to flutter back to normal. Sweat was cooling on skin, and it was just their bodies, the thin, ornate blankets, keeping them warm now.

It was a matter of comfort, when Kratos decided not to get up and rush off right after his quick cat-nap, business as usual.

There was nothing left in his world but this, and he planned on savoring it before that, too, could be taken away.


End file.
